Taming of the Shrew
by Vutleine
Summary: After the War, Blaise decides he wants to pursue a relationship with Ginny while at Hogwarts for his last year. He figures he can persuade Draco to help him by diverting the attention of Harry and Ron through rather unconventional means. A slight rendition of Shakespeare's play. Because love-hate relationships could be hilarious.
1. Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy groaned loudly while his dorm mates clattered around him to get ready for the first day of the new, eighth, school year. Blessed were the heavens that sent Salazar Slytherin the brilliant idea to dig the dwellings for himself and his disciples under the lake. He didn't think he could live through even a single ray of sunshine entering a hypothetical window in his current state. On second thoughts maybe it wasn't such a brilliant idea to get himself utterly sloshed on the first night they came back to Hogwarts. But then again, on third thoughts he very much doubted anyone in the wretched school would give him the time of the day, not even his Slytherin classmates, so what was the point of trying. Well, he sighed as he tried to get up - it was not like he could blame any of them. Hardly anyone wanted to associate with someone who fell from grace with both sides of the recently ended war.

"Get up, Malfoy – scowled Blaise Zabini from the other end of the room. – I don't plan to take shit from either the teachers or the student body on the first day here just because you can't hold your liquor and can't even manage to be on time for classes."

He scowled in return. Well, that brought low to new levels. Any other time no one would hesitate to remind him ad nauseam how the mighty have fallen – really, from a spoiled little brat he somehow managed to turn into the whole Wizarding world's least favorite person in less than two years. Way to be dramatic and overestimate his own pathetic worth, he frowned at himself. He knew, intellectually at least, it could be much worse – for both him and his family, if not for the semblance of a heart Narcissa Malfoy had shown minutes before the final battle between Potty and the Dark Lord. Why it was that the Ministry wanted him to return to school this year and feign a turnabout, was beyond him. He would much rather waste away at home. It wasn't as if he needed the education for something – who would care how much NEWTs he had gotten. He was the bloody 16-year old Death Eater who led a bunch of blood-thirsty lunatics into a school in order to find a way to kill the Headmaster of said school who had swore to protect every single person in the castle… including himself.

"Well, now that you've managed to get out of bed, hurry up a bit and do try to look like you're not hungover", intonated Zabini again and managed to sound even less contemptuous than before "We've got to figure out how to crawl back onto the social ladder in this whole brave new world and, sadly, that doesn't even apply only to you."

With that last word he got out and slammed the door.

* * *

This single conversation set the overall tone of his days for the next fortnight or so – he kept his head down and tried very hard to keep the attention away from himself. Which, considering the fact that everybody needed the time to heal and therefore didn't want to look at him, wasn't even that hard – it was as if he was a big, black ugly thorn in their side. The relative bliss ended one Friday night towards the end of September when Blaise came to him in the common room.

"Don't go to bed yet, Malfoy" he said, his face giving away nothing "I want to talk to you about something personal. Wait till everyone falls asleep and I'll come back here" With that he headed toward the dorms they shared.

He merely nodded. Time seemed to pass very slowly – or maybe his book wasn't very interesting. It wasn't that he was very curious about what Blaise wanted. They have never been very close and Blaise had always been competitive towards any male in Slytherin that wasn't Crabbe or Goyle, him especially. Well, just Goyle now anyway. In actuality, these days he treated him fairly well for someone who deserved so much loathing. Finally, at half past one, the last person exited the common room, accompanied by a few loud yawns. Draco stared transfixed at the fireplace. When he lifted his gaze, his eyes met the chocolate ones of Zabini. He sat casually in the armchair next to his and started speaking.

"Well, I'll be honest with you since there is something I want you to do. Not for me, I don't assume you would have become particularly servicing after the Dark Lord forced your whole family to play his personal butlers for a year or so" Draco narrowed his eyes at this "But this is something that will benefit me and ultimately I think it may benefit you as well. See, the thing is that if we want to keep our head above the water maybe we'll have to be somewhat sincere in our efforts to convince everyone that we're not all some inbred imbeciles spouting the blood purist rubbish our parents fed us if we don't want to scrub floors after the NEWTs for the next twenty years."

Draco laughed bitterly at this. "As if, Zabini. Trust me when I say I don't want to see anyone's blood spilling for the rest of my life – muddy, traitor's or any other kind. But it is hardly as if I've suddenly become a cherub. And besides, I don't think any amount of boot licking will help with our new status of social scum. I consider it a small mercy that Saint Potty and Weasel aren't here to rub my nose in the metaphorical shit every day."

Zabini shrugged non-comitally at this "I get what you mean – trust me when I say it goes against every grain. But in this instance I'm not talking about boot licking – or not in the traditional way. Maybe if you're kinky enough you might even enjoy it, with a certain lady-friend." His eyes sparkled merrily at this, as if envisioning what other kinky activities the said lady-friend might suggest and participate in. He was uncharacteristically open tonight. "Thing is, I've decided to try an untraditional approach to my goal and totally fuck expectations and social pressure this year. It is as closest as we ever got to normal and I for one am perfectly normal hormonal teenager… and, well you get my point. I've actually already set my sights on someone and I've progressed fairly well in the past few weeks. I've decided that giving in into past temptations might benefit me for once. Besides, I'm not certain how long the witch will stay single, what with the trail of faithful male puppy dogs she leaves in her wake." This garnered Draco's attention – it was well known fact that half the female population panted after Zabini's good looks. His somewhat callous and aloof behavior towards women didn't hurt either. It was quite the news that he might be the one chasing after someone for once.

"The thing is I don't want have to have a confrontation with her body guards anytime soon. The lady has quite a few temperamental brothers. And a somewhat rash noble ex-boyfriend who will not hesitate to save her from the likes of me. He can't help it, this whole saving thing, you see." He grinned, but not particularly maliciously. Well, this just kept getting better and better. Apparently, Zabini had established some sort of give and take in the previous weeks with one Ginevra Weasley.

"I thought you would never sully yourself with a blood traitor like her, no matter what she looked like" Draco narrowed his eyes slightly. "Whatever changed your mind?"

"First of all, losing a war has changed my mind. Last year under the carrows changed my mind – I'm not the most compassionate person out there, but I'm not cut out for torturing others either. And finally, getting to do something I want to instead of something I'm supposed to for a change definitely changed my mind."

"Why, I had no idea you were one to be whipped so easily" grinned Draco.

"To tell you the truth – mighty Salazar's snake – she's rubbing off on me. Damn open Gryffindors – it's entirely too tempting to feed off their emotions like some lustful vampire on a maiden's blood. " Blaise laughed at his own not very original joke. "And speaking of Gryffindors, this is where you come in, my friend." That certainly didn't bode with Draco well. It was most untypical for Zabini to call him his friend. "She's quite amenable towards my intentions – could you fucking believe it - but doesn't want to deal with the fallout that will inevitably happen if Potter and Weasley learn about this. And they probably will. Weasley is certainly one to flip out" They both laughed in a sense of camaraderie at that. Old hates, thought Draco, die hard like old loves. Not that he wanted anything to do with that – or these two – anymore. In a sense, he was even happy if not somewhat bitter with his new status of social scum of the pond. He didn't have to antagonize them anymore now that it was established after the war who was on top of the new hierarchy. It certainly did take pressure off of his shoulders and he now had extra time to brood on his own shortcomings and inadequacies. Well, maybe later. For now he had to find out what Zabini had in mind

"What do _I_ have to do with Gryffindor lot?" he asked evasively.

"You see my Gryffindor lioness – I certainly must have rubbed off on her as well – thinks that if the road of inter-house relationships is already paved we won't receive so much unwanted attention should we ever decide to make our arrangement a little more permanent and a little less secretive."

"Do you mean to tell me that the Weaslette actually has that in her?"

"Well, yeah, if you believe it. And this is where a certain not-so-bushy-anymore Gryffindor friend of hers enters the picture. Ginevra was very specific that plans for wooing her stubborn friend should be considered only if the other party is interested in her, genuinely interested, that is – she's not that self-serving that she would risk the breaking of her friend's heart just so we can have it easy on us. From what I gather the King has already done a fairly good job on that"

"Is that why she acts like a bitter shrew these days?" asked Draco curiously, genuinely startled that his interest seemed earnest and not of the malicious variety. It was true – every time his glance rested on Granger (which he tried very hard to do as little as possible) she was scowling. She kept reading her books and avoiding the attention of one or two of the Ravenclaw guys - Boot, Goldstein, whatever their names were – who seemed smitten with her intellect, war heroine status, improved looks (not that she had much to compensate for, if he wanted to be fair… and he really, really didn't want to).

"Well, Ginny tells me he was quite a train wreck after his brother's death. Their whole family. Granger, the compassionate person that she is, offered him quite the comfort for the whole duration of the summer, one that no one prone to female charms at all would decline. In the end, when it was time to decide whether to return for the final year or not, our favorite Weasel told her that maybe they shouldn't wait for NEWTs to think about their future together, since he was fairly certain she was like another sister to him. Talk about having your both feet in your mouth. "

"What a complete and utter moron. If there ever were a contest between him and his brothers "the stupidest one of the lot" should definitely be the title he deserves." agreed and elaborated Draco. "I mean, Granger is certainly the best he could ever do for himself, what with him having more freckles than brain cells."

"And this is exactly where you enter the picture. If you so readily appreciate the fact that she's out of Weasel's league, maybe you should be the one to offer her solace" slyly suggested Blaise, never once breaking eye contact.

Draco's eyes widened imperceptibly. Well, this was certainly unexpected turn of the conversation. "If you think I want to muddy the water in my ambiguous relationship with these three, you're very much mistaken. I have no desire whatsoever to seduce the virtuous bookworm just to try and one up those two imbeciles. I'm through with pathetic schoolyard rivalries. It's not like I want to try and make father proud and gain his approval by competing with these two. Potty and Granger, that is."

"But that's the beauty of it, my friend. You don't have to do it for anyone's gain but yours. That would certainly convince the population that you've changed your views on Muggle-borns."

"No one's gain but mine, huh?" snorted Draco. "What about you and your lioness?"

"Well, yeah, maybe mine too." shrugged Zabini once more. "But I will say it again, Ginny is quite firm that she wouldn't risk another heartbreak on Granger's behalf. So I have kind of counted my owls, before suggesting this to you."

"Yeah, very clever then, Zabini. I'm certainly the last person she would ever want to pursue her. For fuck's sake, Greyback and his snatchers captured her and those two idiots and brought her to my home to be fucking tortured by Bellatrix. Who, by the way, decided it would be a good time to practice her penmanship with a cursed blade on her skin. I was there and watched the whole fucking time without any clue what to do to make her stop. How does that not spell "emotional distress" in your book?" he barely could stop himself in the end to take a deep breath. The disgusting things they were forced to watch, do and occasionally endure the last year under the Carrows had nothing on the disgusting things he was forced to watch, endure and occasionally do the last two years at his home.

Blaise took note of his distress and stayed silent for a minute, pretending to contemplate what to say next. In reality, he just wanted to give Draco the time to compose himself. It wouldn't do for his cause to take advantage of his vulnerability and he was sure Malfoy definitely wouldn't like what he had to say next.

"You just proved to me that I was right with my suggestion. Two years ago Draco Malfoy wouldn't have cared for the emotional well-being of a Mudblood" said Blaise quietly and noted with satisfaction that the other boy flinched at the vile word. "Besides, you can't fool me, dude, I'm not Goyle or Crabbe with their astounding lack of observational skills and that is precisely the reason we haven't been friends for all these years. I see right through you – you could burn a hole through her head in the rare times your control slips and you just stare at her. And when you're not, you're intensely aware of her position and what she's doing just so you can avoid at all costs the aforementioned staring. Have been aware - as a matter of fact, for years." Oh, now his jaw visibly clenched. Hmm, maybe Blaise had indeed hit bull's eye with this pairing. "I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out you've had a crush on her for years but didn't know what else to do except pull her bushy pigtails."

"Have you gone insane?" Draco spat. Really, the nerve of him. "What is that damn Gryffindor of yours feeding you – delusion inducing potion?"

"But I don't hear any denial from you. And I don't need to – confess yourself or don't, it's fine byme. I didn't want to have this conversation just to make it a point to perform a vivisection of your emotions. But consider this – it is a chance for you to try and make amends and this is the person who probably deserves it the most. And if you don't want to think about it, look at the bright side. She's so kind-hearted that she can't bring herself to hate Weasel for his lack of sensitivity, so she's instead decided to despise every male in the Hogwarts vicinity that shows her some kind of appreciation. The girl is a bloody mess. You would be such a great target for her to practice her contempt, that she'll eventually heal herself and get over her feminist phase." He actually had the audacity to laugh at this.

"This is probably the most twisted logic I've ever heard, right after the Muggle descent of a certain blood purist maniac we all we knew not so long ago. But if I considered suicide out of boredom, maybe I would indeed contemplate your suggestion somewhere in the near future." Well, Blaise thought, that would be the most willing to compromise he was ever going to get from Malfoy. Even with the dead pan sarcasm. Time for the last nail in the coffin.

"Well, do think about it, mate, it really is a shame there are not more eligible bachelors in Slytherin house, except for me that is. Goyle is both uglier and dumber than Weasley so that's hardly ever going to be an option. And there is the slight problem with Nott he despises everybody equally – both pure-bloods and Muggle-borns. Do you think I should consider him instead? He's good-looking in a bookish sort of way – maybe that should appeal to our princess. And he's smart, devilishly so and would make for a fine study partner." He inwardly laughed at the sickened expression on Draco's face and he knew he had him. "I'm only slightly troubled by the fact that he's even more contemptuous and rude towards women, what with his mother dying so early and having instead his Death eater father raising him."

"Really, Zabini, as opposed to the brilliant example you must have been given by some of the many stepfathers your mother seduced and then probably poisoned." Draco spat and stood up. "I should go to bed. It's terribly late." With that he spun and darted to the dormitories.

Blaise lingered behind, contemplating the conversation and stared unseeingly at the flames. Then he laughed quietly to himself. "Low blow, Malfoy, wouldn't bring my lovely mother into this, if you weren't pissed off beyond reason. Well, this is definitely an answer to my troubles." With that and a satisfied grin, he went to bed. His last thought before he went to sleep was that it was pathetic really. Maybe he was indeed whipped, but not any more than the blond idiot in the other corner of the room. He would have to make quite a lot of amends if he ever wanted to get into the good graces of a certain Gryffindor shrew.

* * *

A/N: Hey, guys. I'm not really into writing since English is not my mother language. I'm a having a hard time not using the same stupid words over and over again and I'm not really sure about my grammar, but oh well. Taming of the Shrew is one of my favorite Shakespeare plays and I figured some time ago that using the plot for a Dramione fanfiction could turn out pretty funny. Unfortunately, no one's written it yet, so here goes nothing..

Hope you enjoy this, I'm not sure how regularly I'll update but I expect to finish it in a month or two. It won't be a lengthy story (25 - 30+ words) and it is kind of easier when someone's already thought out the story for you.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Sorry, I forgot for a moment that I own neither Harry Potter, nor Shakespeare's play.

* * *

He punched his pillow in an effort to make it more comfortable so that he could fucking go to sleep already. It had been three days after his profound conversation with Zabini, and damn the stupid prick if he wasn't right. He knew of course that his attitude towards the damn Golden Trio (stupid moniker) was far from healthy but he simply chose to ignore it. If he caved in on that question, who's to say what other demented ideas could enter his head. Next thing he knew he would probably start ruminating what hypothetical traumatic experiences in his childhood had made him such a craven bully at school and generally such a shallow person. He just couldn't give in – especially when it came to Granger - because then he would unravel like a ball of yarn. He was enough of a wreckage as it was.

And yet he just couldn't turn his eyes away from the hellish girl. He kept noticing more and more little stuff that gnawed at his resolve. She wasn't such a nice person as everyone made her out to be. Sure, she was never pleasant with him, and sure, she was compassionate and eager to help, but once someone had stepped on her toes she could become as malicious as any other Slytherin. The many years of pathetic rows with Weasley and the face of one Marietta Edgecombe were proof enough of that. She wasn't some naïve pretty little thing – her analytical mind seemed to aid her not only in studying but in judging others' characters too. That was probably the main reason that she had so few friends – she regarded most girls as shallow and boring (and not undeservedly so, may he add) and kept as much distance as possible with most males that seemed interested in her. Well, having a paranoid emotionally deprived best friend with a hero complex to boot seemed to have rubbed off on her. It seemed she just didn't want to expose herself too much when it came to her innermost feelings. He supposed that spewing house elf right and talking about your sense of belonging - or its lack - in a very conservative society, for example, were entirely different things. Being the reserved (or if you wanted to be rude - emotionally repressed and fucked up) person that he was, he couldn't help but respect that. And what finished him in the end – she just seemed so lonely, clutching to her books like a lifeline, putting the same scowling face he wore to shield herself. Urgh, he just couldn't take it anymore. He cast a Muffliato and on Nott and Goyle's beds and a Notice-me-not charm on Zabini's. "Fancy that, he quipped to himself internally, using the same hideaways as Potter." Snape's old potions book was really the most useful thing the Room of Requirement had ever provided him with – he was lucky he had managed to sneak it away before Crabbe's fiendfyre. He went and shook Zabini in his bed quite roughly; the prat deserved it anyway after planting that poisonous seed in his mind.

"Zabini, wake up, I want to talk to you."

The other boy groaned sleepily. "Whatever for, Malfoy? Did you need to discuss our chances to win the Quidditch cup now that Potter's not here to beat your arse?"

He sneered "For someone who has a vested interest in how I behave, you're not doing a very good job at motivating me."

Blaise shot up to a sitting position "Should we go to the common room if you want to have this discussion at – he glanced at the clock on the nightstand - three in the morning?"

"Don't worry, neither of those two can hear or see us, even if they did wake up. I've done the appropriate charms."

Blaise eyed him speculatively. "So I guess you were quite awake and alert before you got to manhandle me."

Draco scoffed – of course his Housemate wouldn't let him live this down. That's just the way things were in Slytherin house – using others' weaknesses made you appear strong. "Yes, you idiot, all thanks to you. But, to the point. I'd like to finish this conversation as quickly as possible, so I can get some sleep finally."

"Of course, of course" agreed Blaise readily. "You need your beauty sleep, right? It wouldn't do for your cause to look like Hagrid's dog chewed and spewed you, eh?"

"Keep this up, Zabini, and I might reconsider" he spat, annoyed that he was, apparently, so easily read by the other boy.

His housemate narrowed his eyes shrewdly. "As if… let's be honest with each other, mate, you're not doing this for me."

Draco laughed almost pleasantly. "While it's always good to be perceived as opportunistic, it wouldn't do for my Slytherin reputation and conscience to appear so easily navigated."

"But that's the thing, isn't? We are self-serving enough to let others manipulate us, from time to time. As long as I'm not gullible like a Hufflepuff regarding the other side's motivations, I couldn't care less – if it gets me what I want in the end."

"Yeah, mate, now I'm off to bed. I really need that sleep right now."

"Just a second… Have you considered how you're going to approach her?"

He couldn't help himself any longer and snickered – this entire situation was just maddeningly funny and ridiculous at the same time.

"Why, are you planning to write a guideline? "How to charm volatile females with your slippery tongue in less than two weeks"?

"Very funny, mate. You'd probably be the first to need it. But seriously, have you thought out any strategic moves yet?"

"Yes, I plan to be my charming and genuine self. I've been told that with that lot authenticity is highly appreciated."

"So, you actually plan on being your usual priggish self and pester her to death, just so you can get her to notice you. How's that anything new? And more importantly – how do you expect that it will work itself out, in the long run?"

"Patience is a virtue my friend" he smirked, something he hadn't done in quite a while. "And more importantly, persistence. Besides, the girl's too high-strung - she needs to vent her frustrations, otherwise she might combust spontaneously." He plopped himself against his bed and added, almost as an afterthought. "Oh, and Zabini? You may not care for your reputation, but I do. Let's spice up things a bit."

Blaise sighed mockingly. "I knew it was too easy to be true. What cunning plot do you have in mind?"

"A bet. But mark my words the whole thing's off, if you try to meddle in any way whatsoever. So, here's the deal – if I get Granger to admit before the Christmas break that she likes me and we could be good together, you'll stand on the Slytherin table in front of everybody and announce the Weaslette has you whipped."

"And if you don't? Three months is not nearly enough time to overcome her aversion towards… well… you."

"Then _I_ 'll stand up on the Slytherin table and admit in front of the whole school that I've been hopelessly infatuated with Granger ever since she slapped me in third year over that damn Hippogriff." Blaise's eyes widened dramatically at that. "Which, by the way" continued Draco almost nonchalantly, "is true. She is quite possibly the most fearsome and loyal woman I've ever met. Except my mother, that is. You should have seen her eyes blazing (no pun intended), she almost flailed me alive. Good night, you fucker, consider this admission a once in a lifetime extra dirt on me. That's all you're probably ever going to get." He chuckled and turned his back to the other boy.

"Well, Malfoy, I'm glad to see the arsehole in you hasn't died yet. Good night to you too… Wanker."

* * *

The next morning Blaise nervously swept his eyes across the House tables in search for his favorite shade of red. He had a mild headache courtesy to Malfoy's verbal diarrhea in the middle of the night but was otherwise in a chipper mood. He had written a message to Ginny first thing after he had awoken. They each had a piece of parchment enchanted with a Protean charm which Granger had graciously provided them with – of course she didn't exactly know who the second piece was for.

" _Cat's in the bag. Do something to lure the canary in."_

At precisely this moment his eyes met Ginny's and she winked slyly in his general direction. He felt the accompanying quill vibrate slightly in his pocket which meant she had already read his message and had written something in return. He waited impatiently for a minute or two so that he wouldn't to any suspicions. Then he opened casually his bag and took out his Transfiguration textbook where he had stashed away the special parchment.

" _The deal's done. Took care of it this morning before breakfast. Meet me at the second floor by the tapestry of the Lady of the Shallot ten minutes before the first class."_

He smiled to himself absently, hoping he could maybe steal a kiss or two from sweet Ginny before meeting the old Scottish harpy. Just then a loud clanking noise pulled him out of his reverie. Granger was standing, her hair practically crackling with energy visible all the way to the Slytherin table, glaring at some plain boy with a Ravenclaw tie. It was obvious she was quite out of control, as she almost yelled at him.

"No, _Goldstein_ , you quite misunderstand me. I have no need and certainly no desire to be persuaded by anyone, much less you, that not all boys are callous pigs." My, my, it was almost as if she was impersonating Malfoy. "I don't know whoever gave you the idea, but let me give you some advice. Next time you try to convince a girl to give you a chance, do try not to look like a gossiping old cat-lady." With that she stormed out of the Great Hall.

Blaise snickered to himself but then abruptly stopped as his eyes landed on Draco a seat or two left from him. Sure, he was smirking to himself, but his expression seemed so dreamy that he almost resembled Luna Lovegood with his pale hair and a faraway look in his grey eyes.

"Feisty, eh? At least I'm not going to try and convince her I'm not a callous pig – she pretty much knows that I am."

"Because that's the first thing you look for in a person, yeah? Just hope she doesn't see so easily how pathetically smitten you are. If that's how she's running from some Ravenclaw nerd, you'll probably make her transfer to Salem's institute and leave Britain in less than a week. You're not exactly her favorite person."

"You're not much better yourself, you know. Now off you go, your carrot-haired fling seems to expect you somewhere."

Blaise scoffed at him, but then quickly got up and made his way to the second floor. Just in time for Ginny to pull him behind the tapestry of the heartbroken girl who couldn't tear her gaze from the surface of a lake in search of God knows what. He wrapped his arms around her tiny waist and gave her a tender, long kiss. When she pulled herself away after a minute, she laughed.

"You know, your metaphor with the canaries is most unfortunate. If there ever was a volatile little bird, it would be Hermione. My brother's scars are a testament to that."

"Why? What did she do? And what does it have to do with canaries?"

"She was mad at him two years ago for leading her on – he promised to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with her and then hooked up with Lavender Brown right after that. At the time they were practicing conjuring animate objects with McGonagall and well, Hermione might have accidentally conjured a canary or two and then made them attack him."

Blaise laughed silently. "My, isn't she a handful. So temperamental. She's perfect for Draco – she will certainly teach him his place. He doesn't need another doormat like how Pansy used to be." He then paused and regarded her carefully. "Speaking of doormats, whatever was up with that Goldstein bloke?"

Ginny laughed gleefully, with a glint in her eye. "Well, I might have told him a thing or two about how best to proceed with Hermione. Not necessarily true or kind-hearted things, though."

He couldn't help himself and kissed her again, quite insistently. "You, miss Weasley, have a devious mind. How you managed to get into Gryffindor, I'll never know."

"Hey, I'm just being fair. I accidentally heard him the other night while he was talking with Ernie McMillan in one of the corridors. He's just some naïve, not especially nice or clever boy, who has no idea who Hermione is. She doesn't need another Ronald."

"Well, no need to worry about that anymore. Draco will certainly not leave room for anyone – he's like a toddler fixed on a colorful broom. He won't leave her alone until she either caves in or kills him in a fit of desperation. Want to bet which is more likely?"

"Maybe - speaking of Malfoy, how did that happen?"

"Well, he is quite smitten – and if you can believe it, her temperamental outbursts seem to fascinate him the most; have done for quite some time, apparently. Truly, if I have mommy issues, then this guy probably needs someone from the Janus Thickey ward to help him. Anyway, since I caught him with his pants down, so to speak, two days ago, he completely changed his stance on the matter. He's decided he wants to pursue her. In his ideal world, they'll be together, come Christmas."

Ginny's eyes widened "No way… I think I'm going to make that bet with you. I say, she runs as far away as she can."

Blaise laughed good-heartedly. "What about NEWTs, eh? This is your friend we're talking about."'

"She'll take them via correspondence or something, I don't know. There's no way in hell that she'll cave in before Christmas."

Just then, a bell announced the start of the first class for the day. Ginny gave him a quick peck on the lips and said "Gotta dash, Divination all the way up to the Northern tower."

Blaise smirked to himself, straightened his tie and headed towards McGonagall's office.

What he heard, just as he slipped inside the classroom, made him want to groan and hide his face inside his hands, despite the fact that it was most unbecoming for a Slytherin.

"Granger, I'm keeping the seat for my good friend Zabini – the boy was sure even Malfoy didn't believe himself – but if you're so adamant that you must sit at precisely this desk, _your_ desk, as you so convincingly put it, you can always sit on my lap." At that he leered suggestively and even shifted a bit on the chair, as if to make room for the now fuming girl.

"Why, you vile pig, you've just climbed the Everest of your bullshit, congratulations . Keep the innuendoes for someone who appreciates them, like your good friend Zabini here" she scoffed at that. "Or better yet – keep them to yourself" With that she turned and made her way to the furthest table.

"And why is that, darling Hermione? Don't want anyone else to have me, if you haven't the Gryffindor guts to do for once something nobody expects of you?" he called mockingly.

Blaise did indeed groan at that. So that was how Draco was going to play it… As a matter of fact, his eyes seemed intense and gave away that he was meaning something altogether different from what the witch (and anyone with a hint of common sense) presumed to be just a way to torment her yet again, but it was nevertheless a stupid approach. He sighed, as he threw himself in the chair next to the blond boy.

"Should we arrange a welcoming party tonight? I was wondering when the prat you used to be would make a reappearance."

Draco just gave him a withering glare and fixed his eyes on their Headmistress, who was just making her way into the room.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hey there. I swear to God, punctuation will be the death of me. I'm kind of disappointed that so far things are not as funny as I hoped they would turn out, but still. I don't own Harry Potter, nor The Taming of the Shrew.

By the way, seeing as everyone writes that - reviews are most welcome and appreciated. I'm sure there's quite a lot to be desired, so if you get back at me it would be great.

* * *

"Well" Blaise Zabini thought, as he watched how his… House mate? Just mate? was getting the yelling of his life for the third time in five days "maybe the whole "Mating sessions of the incredibly stubborn and immature" business has some merits after all." He didn't want to exactly admit it, but he had laughed in the previous week at Draco and Granger's antics as much as he had in the whole previous year, maybe even slightly more. He and Ginny had developed the habit of discussing the events of the day, when they met every evening. Sometimes they would place bets about what Draco's next step in wooing Hermione might be and whether she would yell, slap him or just storm out in a huff. So far, Blaise hadn't been able to see a repeat performance of Granger's spectacular slap from third year – something that had arguably earned her the affections of the blond idiot. He was immensely curious as to how had that happened, but Malfoy had been totally mum about the entire "hippogriff fiasco".

What he didn't want to discuss with Ginny – he didn't want to seem as caring and soft as a Hufflepuff – was that it seemed to lift everyone's spirits. Even Granger's – no matter how far fetched and unrealistic that sounded. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were amused and bewildered at Draco's behavior. Though he didn't have the austere nature of a hermit – again, perfectly normal and hormonal teenage boy – he was never one to put his ego on the line just to get some female's attention. Granger had always been the sole exception of the rule, but as ridiculous as that sounded no one had noticed how intimate and telling that fact may be up until this point. To think that Draco Malfoy, arrogant git extraordinaire, was (and had been, for quite some time) whipped by the same girl that he teased, abused and occasionally wished and caused harm to, was, to put it plainly, absolutely insane. It led people to assumptions that he actually wasn't heartless, although there was no doubt that if he indeed had a heart, it would still be blackened and shriveled. Slytherins didn't seem as put out as one would expect them to be about one of their own behaving like a blood traitor over some irritating Mudblood chit. That in itself was proof (in Blaise's never modest opinion) that prejudices were not as overwhelming as they were not so long ago. And Gryffindors' reactions were the best thing about the whole deal – they were so perpetually confused, that one almost didn't have the heart to laugh at them. Almost being the key word in sentence. It was as if everybody in their house had made some bet about who could make the best impersonation of a first year Neville Longbottom – obliviousness, clumsiness, complete inadequacy and all.

But the people whose demeanor had changed the most were the two protagonists of this six-sickle romance. Draco seemed more carefree these days than in any other time of his life. True, he did rant about stubborn, bushy-haired prudes but with none of his ever present sullenness. It was as if a weight had been lifted of his shoulders – he was lighter than ever before (in both senses of the word), initiated contact and even laughed good-naturedly at something or other Blaise teased him about every once in a great while. Granger, on the other hand was a completely different story. She was irritable, easily angered and occasionally spiteful. In the same time she was practically crackling with energy – something that she had been sorely lacking after the fallout with the Ginger Wonder. Just like Draco, she seemed more like herself. After all, both of them hadn't had it easy in the war and it was obviously good for them both to be able to revert to more childish ways, but with none of their previous malice.

The way Blaise saw it there was only one drawback in this whole situation. Potter and Weasley weren't here and neither was Pansy. Ah, what unprecedented fun that would be, he mused wistfully. It would be priceless to watch Potter splutter incoherently as Draco announced in front of the whole Potions class that it was terribly sad that Amortentia smelled to him like cat's piss and rotten parchment, before he suddenly got the brilliant insight that maybe it was just what Hermione's perfume smelled like. It would be even more priceless to watch Weasley turn all shades of red and magenta at Draco's stupid innuendos in the corridors that maybe his lady-love wouldn't be so afraid of flying, were she to ride his broom (insert waggling eyebrows and lecherous, boyish grin here). But nothing would be more priceless than to watch Pansy turn even more vibrant shades of green than Weasley's red, knowing that despite his stupid comments and oafish behavior, Draco had never been more smitten in his entire, admittedly, short life.

Aha! Blaise was in for a load of fun tonight. Grangerhad obviously finished her tirade about certain "blond idiots", so she threw quickly most of her things in her satchel and stormed out of the charms room. In the middle of a class, no less. So it seemed Blaise, who had thought that Saint Hermione, Patron of Swots, would never skip on something, had lost his last bet with Ginny. Hell yeah, this meant that tonight he had to stay completely motionless for whole ten minutes during whatever sensual torture his fiery girlfriend decided to put him under. He spent the remaining ten minutes in class trying to come up with very detailed scenarios about whatever this "sensual torture" might include. Mmm, it was good that the forfeits were as good as the prize in his bets with Ginny. After all, this was why he liked to play with her so much.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a different part of the castle a certain willful female was raging on and on about a "disgustingly vile, stupid ferret" who made her blood race, although in a very unfortunate manner. Hermione was beyond pissed off, she was absolutely furious. First the fallout with Ronald, now this. As if the goggly eyed Ravenclaws weren't enough. She was already so bitter and resentful…

If there was something that could make her feel more humiliated and useless as a female, it was certainly Malfoy's innuendos. After years of his tormenting and bullying, which she had braved with stone-cold demeanor, she thought she had come to know him quite well. The comments about her bushy hair, beaver teeth and her lowly background, had made it obvious that to Draco Malfoy she was as undesirable prospect as they came. So what in the name of Nimue's hairs had made him behave like this now? She couldn't deny it – he wholly deserved to be a Slytherin. It was as if he had a radar for insecurities and he never failed to strike, much like a viper, where it hurt her the most.

Her failed relationship with Ron had left her feel so unfulfilled. After all the years of waiting, after the humiliation that he had chosen some girl who hadn't known him at all (and more importantly – hadn't cared to know him) over her; even after he had left them in the middle of a bloody war, she still believed she could make it work. She had known that he was devastated after Fred's death, as was his entire family so she hadn't pressured him about anything. She had ached to provide him some small reprieve from everything they had been through and he hadn't turned her away. But they both had been so hollow on the inside that she had known, deep down, that what they had wouldn't last very long. Yet she had just shrugged her shoulders like the Gryffindor she was and had gone with it all, consequences be damned. Maybe that was the reason that she just hadn't had it in her heart to be angry with Ron when he broke things off before the new school year at Hogwarts. She knew some small hidden part of her was still completely furious (that same part that made her treat every other boy with resentment and contempt) that after all the years of patience she still hadn't gotten her fairytale ending with her sometimes ridiculously inept and sometimes ridiculously adorable ginger prince. Well, it was what it was.

But this… this couldn't be tolerated. Right now, there was nothing more that she wanted than to annihilate the blond baboon. Or better yet, turn him into a ferret once more and lock him in that entirely more likeable form. And then maybe feed him to Crookshanks, if she was in a particularly bad mood. The most humiliating thing about the "ferret situation" was that the heat in his eyes, the playful lilt in his voice every time he accosted her almost made her want to believe him. He was too good an actor, much to the detriment of her sanity – with the way he behaved Hermione could almost believe that he really couldn't tear his eyes away from her. Ugh, that was completely unacceptable. She had made a promise to herself, after all. She wouldn't let herself be vulnerable. Couldn't.

As these and other similar gruesome musings were rolling around in her head, she hadn't noticed how she had reached the Astronomy tower. Hermione stood at the base of the staircase, still reeling. After some deliberation, she climbed the stairs without looking back. While she was as afraid of heights and falling as ever, she still found the solitude and stillness of the tower soothing. "When you think of it as a metaphor, you don't necessarily need stars for stargazing", she thought to herself, amused at her sudden philosophical bouts. Well, pity her amusement didn't last very long – just as she reached the middle of the staircase a most exasperating voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Why, hello, my bonny girl, I've been looking everywhere for you. Please, turn around, my fair maiden. I couldn't bear yet another minute without gazing into your starry eyes – they make even the Evening star seem dim in comparison." She could almost hear the smirk in his voice, when he next said "Rather befitting that we should meet in the Astronomy tower, don't you think? Maybe you're more amenable to me than I previously thought."

Hermione turned and narrowed her eyes at him. "As if. What is wrong with you these days? Have you hit your head?"

"Ah" sighed Draco in mock appreciation, "she does allow me a glimpse of her flushed cheeks. Anger so becomes you, Granger, no Briar Rose could ever compete with that. Though I'm sometimes rather afraid of all the tiny sparks that seem to pass through your hair whenever I see you. Be careful, love, otherwise you might burn me to a crisp."

"Well, we both know that at least one of your vital organs wouldn't be threatened. Hairy hearts, you purebloods say, if I'm not wrong?" She hadn't noticed how he had used the verbal fencing to his advantage – they were now at the top of the staircase and he was slowly pushing his way forwards, forcing her to step into the airy room, so that they wouldn't get too close. It was time to fight back if she didn't want to end up pinned to the railing. Having Malfoy in close proximity this high didn't bode well for her well-being.

"Speaking of fear, something you're too familiar with – how do you feel now that you're back at the scene of the crime?" She couldn't hold back.

The answer was instantaneous – in a blurry of motion he was standing in front of her, his face unnervingly calm.

"Oh, darling, always to true to yourself - speaking of things you know nothing of, arrogantly believing quite the opposite. You know, we really aren't so different after all." He reached out and carefully tugged one of her locks, smiling to himself. If she didn't know any better, she would think the look that flitted across his eyes was almost fond. "Still, I shouldn't expect anything less from you. Waspish as ever." The obnoxious smirk was back in place.

Something tugged at her synapses and she blurted out, not quite acknowledging where the words had come from. "If I be waspish, best beware my sting."

The smirk turned into a wide and happy grin, one that certainly didn't have any business staying on his face. It made him seem a different person altogether.

"Out of the two, I may be the coward, Granger, but I'm certainly not the one pathetically afraid of heights standing a good two hundred feet above the ground with a flimsy railing keeping me from falling."

Hermione's eyes widened as she took in the reality of the situation – it was true, he had caught her off guard with his inappropriate comments and even more inappropriate smile (because, shockingly, it seemed genuine) and had her effectively pinned against the waist-high iron railing. Her hands flew of their accord and fisted the vest of his uniform, clutching to him like a lifeline.

"Malfoy, I don't know what you're planning. But I can assure you, you're behaving utterly insane and I won't leave it without consequences. I'll make sure to hex your pointy nose off after I creep back to solid ground. Or better yet - make your hair a Weasley shade of red."

"Oh, that was such a blow to my ego, Granger. Do you miss the ginger tosser that much? But rest assured, fair Hermione, if that was my only chance to win your affections, I would even brave that awful carrot shade of orange. For you, my lady."

She almost shrieked. "You've really gone 'round the bend, haven't you?" Seeing his determined expression and the sardonic smile made her cut him off before he even got the chance to speak. She did _not_ need to hear from him that, yes, being attached to her (or whatever other utter non-sense he tried to pass as a reason for his insanity) made him feel slightly off his rocker. It was preposterous, really, how he tried and succeeded to mess with her head.

Draco, on the other hand, was feeling as if someone was pulling the rug from under his feet. It was a heady feeling, having the witch this close to him, staring at him with wide doe eyes. She was scared almost to death, he could tell by the rapid, shallow breaths she was taking. It was also apparent by the fierce glint in those same doe eyes she wouldn't bend to his will. He smiled slowly, almost tasting the feel of the chase on his tongue. That unnerved her even more and she mumbled. "I bet your mad Black genes have finally started to manifest themselves."

He laughed at that. "Tell you what, Granger, let's make a deal."

She narrowed her eyes, still clutching to his sweater. "I would have to be mad to make a deal with the likes of you."

"Maybe, but do you really think you have a choice, right now? Your heart is probably beating a tattoo into your chest, as we speak." He grinned lecherously at the mention of said chest.

This elicited a scowl from her. "Let's hear it then."

"Well, Halloween's only three weeks away. Word has it, that there's going to be a Ball this year - something like the one Dumbledore held during the Triwizard tournament."

"Yes, Minerva and the other professors felt that it would be important to do something special this year – part of mourning all those we lost. Appreciating life, the here and the now, et cetera. It will certainly overshadow Sir Nicholas' death anniversary." She tried to laugh at that, to steady her frazzled nerves.

"Well" drawled Draco, ignoring the comment about the Gryffindor ghost. He hid his nervousness by placing himself slightly closer to the considerably more nervous witch. She instantly grew wary. "Since I'm sure you're not too keen to meet with your element yet, my darling earthy witch, I promise I'll let you go unscathed today... If you agree to come to the ball with me."

She stood there numbly, unable to from a coherent sentence.

After a minute or so, she managed to utter. "No. Simply no."

"Well, don't forget, that you're standing here at my mercy" Not so long ago this would sound incredibly menacing and creepy, but there was no malice or threat in his eyes. There was only that damn heat and that made her feel even more uncomfortable at the proximity, if that was possible at all. "Come to the ball with me, Granger, or there will be forfeits."

She scoffed, suddenly regaining a bit of her courage. "Like what? You're going to push me over?"

"Well, no. Let's just say I'm interested in my own gain and that would certainly not be it. If you don't agree, I get a kiss from you."

Hermione's eyes widened yet again. What a jester. He was full of surprises today, wasn't he?

"Malfoy, the joke is getting old. Move or I will find a way to hex you, even post factum." With that she shoved against him, but he wouldn't budge. Her frustration grew exponentially and she almost yelled at him. "Why won't you ever just leave me alone, you self-satisfied prick. Three weeks. Three miserable weeks is all the respite from your obnoxious behavior I've gotten for the seven years I've known you. When is enough?..."

She stopped herself when her gaze flickered across his face. Who was this person and what he had done with Draco Malfoy? There was nothing spoiled and whiny about his expression. Instead it was wounded and angry. She spoke again, her voice small, her own anger gone.

"What is it that you actually want, Malfoy?"

"I was very clear, _Hermione_. I want you to come to the ball with me."

Her shoulders sagged. "Very well, then. I will, as long as you leave me alone for the time being."

"Unfortunately, three weeks is an awful lot of time for you to change your mind. I require a wand oath."

And just like that her anger was back right where it belonged to – directed at Draco Malfoy. But he still had her pinned near the edge of the Astronomy tower, and she still was the first to give in. So she reached out for her wand, fighting the urge to do something really nasty to him there and then. After a few golden sparks from both their wands, indicating the sealed deal, he stepped back. But instead of turning around and going back to whatever rock he had crawled from under, he just stood there gazing at her, the resemblance to Luna Lovegood almost uncanny. Finally, he leaned into her once more and gently kissed her cheek.

Hermione stood there long after he was gone, her fear of imminent death by fall completely forgotten.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hey there, long time no write. I actually had the time to look at the previous chapters and the amount of mistakes and inconsistencies was somewhat discouraging so I dragged my feet for some time. I'm open to suggestions for improvements. I'll probably take my time in editing once everything is said and done. By the way there is this lovely, [a little bit] smutty story by _Flaming moth of doom_ called _Nothing like the sun_ \- I encourage you to read it since there is plenty of Shakespeare quotes - both from Sonnets and The taming of the Shrew. I own nothing.

It's unbearably hot, where I am right now, so cheer yourself up: _Mark Lanegan & Isobel Campbell - Come undone_. Puts you in a mood. ;)

* * *

Ginny had a hard time trying not to laugh at her best friend's twitchy behaviour. She stifled the giggle that threatened to burst out of her and asked innocently:

"Are you okay, Hermione? You seem a little fidgety – were you expecting someone to join us?"

It was the first Saturday that they were permitted to go to Hogsmeade, considering the Samhain ball was mere ten days away. It was decided that the sixth and seventh years - who were already of age and had their apparition license, what with Lord Voldemort delaying their education and all – could go to Diagon Alley to buy a dressing gown if they so chose. They were having a costume ball, after all.

The girls had already decided that they would go to "Twilfit and Tatting" because it was one of the better shops for clothes in Diagon Alley.

Hermione thought for a second and concluded that maybe it was for the best to just ignore the sly smile of her ginger friend, unless she wanted to have a very uncomfortable conversation. She had a hunch that Ginny already knew much more about Malfoy's strange behaviour than she let on; of course, it could be just her paranoia talking since the two of them were currently the butt of the joke for the whole school. Not three days ago some Muggle-born girl two years below her even had the audacity to compare them to modern day Romeo and Juliet and gush about it too, as if it was really romantic. Hermione almost emptied the contents of her stomach when she heard that.

But more disconcerting than other people's reactions was the fact that some solitary butterfly – apparently led astray – had made said stomach its current residence and stubbornly refused to go away. Hermione, being the exceedingly logical person that she was, convinced herself that it was a normal female reaction – every girl loved to bask in attention. She was a girl. So it followed naturally, that maybe she wasn't so immune to the advances of hormonal boys, after all. Right. Right? She conveniently forgot that talking to Terry Boot, Ernie McMillan and any other number of nice, if a bit boring Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff boys did nothing to stir that stubborn, stupid butterfly awake. Perhaps it was just some glitch best left unmentioned.

Before she had time to settle on the most vague, useless answer, Ginny grabbed her hand and nudged her to side-apparate them both to the Leaky cauldron. The bar seemed as if it might actually burst at its seams. The room was currently much lighter and cleaner than Hermione had ever seen it before. She eyed curiously the elderly wizards and witches who led quiet conversations in the corner tables. There were also much younger people, apparently families, taking out their progeny for a relaxing stroll in the beautiful autumn morning.

"To answer your question, Ginevra, I am expecting someone. I wrote to Harry that we're going to Diagon Alley and he promised to meet us there. From what I gathered of his response, he'll probably bring Ron too."

Ginny groaned, while doing rushed mental calculations. She had told Blaise their plans for the day and he had promised to drag Draco along. This way they had the perfect chance to spend some time together, without attracting unwarranted attention, and they also got to laugh at Hermione's obliviousness and her unexpected suitor's antics. So far, not so good. Having Harry and Ron in the close vicinity just spelled out trouble. Malfoy could not be trusted not to be rude to them and it would make Hermione even more defensive.

The red-haired girl was also a bit anxious that Harry - who was very perceptive and only sometimes slightly paranoid - might become suspicious that they were walking around Diagon Alley in the company of two formerly quite haughty Slytherins. Never mind the fact that though they were no longer in relationship the two of them sort of clicked and Harry always knew what kind of mood she was in. She couldn't risk drawing his attention to Blaise, at least not yet.

She sighed internally as they were making their way to the back - no use crying over spilt potion now. Perhaps she could manage it somehow. Hermione tapped her wand on the designated brick and the familiar portal appeared.

"Where do you want to go first? I suggest we leave the visit of the clothes shop and the fitting for the end of the day. I promised Harry to go together George's shop. Said he would meet us there"

Ginny tried to cast a subtle glance at her watch. It was precisely the time that Blaise said he would loiter a bit around Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. "I can't believe you, Hermione. You're a traitor!" She pointed a dramatic finger at her best friend and watched with amusement as her eyes widened. "Whatever happened to being faithful to yourself? Preferring the joke shop to Flourish and Blotts, are you sure you're not Polyjuiced?"

Just as quickly as Hermione's eyes had widened, they now narrowed. "Very funny, miss Weasley. Have you considered a career with your brother?"

Ginny snickered. "Can you imagine the Bat-Bogey hex implemented into a product?"

Hermione shuddered at the implications and then sighed. "Well, to be honest I do want to go to Flourish and Blotts, but you know – boys will be boys and I can't expect them _and_ you to willingly browse books for half an hour or – God forbid - more. I thought that Ron and Harry could keep you company at Twilfit and Tatting while I skipped of to the bookstore for a bit."

Her friend laughed heartily at that. "There's the Hermione I know and love. I could be persuaded. But if you want to force me to spend so much time in a clothes store with those two, I get to choose a costume for you."

They were now walking past the bookstore which Hermione eyed longingly. "Hey, how is that fair?"

"Hello, you've met them, haven't you?" mocked Ginny. "They don't care much for gowns and balls, especially Ronald."

Trying to ignore the dark look in her friend's amber eyes Ginny did her best to distract her until they reached Diagon Alley 93 where they were met with a priceless view. Harry and Ron were standing next to the door, while Blaise was trying to hold a polite conversation with varying success. Malfoy was standing next to him and carefully avoiding eye contact with both boys, looking exceedingly uncomfortable with his hands in his pockets. Hermione groaned loudly and for a moment seemed frantic enough to run away. Ginny tried to smother a laugh but Blaise seemed to notice her mirth anyway.

"Weaslette, Granger, what a surprise." He cast a sly glance at Hermione and offered good-naturedly. "Granger, you're not at Flourish and Blotts - didn't peg you as one to enjoy fun."

Ginny already knew enough about the teasing manner he adopted in favor of his previous pompousness so she didn't pay him attention – instead her eyes fell on her brother who had tensed slightly at the comment and then on Malfoy who seemed intent on not missing even so much as a blink from either Ron or Hermione. "Oh, goodness" she thought to herself, "he seems to be the jealous type."

Blaise continued beside them nonchalantly. "I was just offering Potter here a thanks and an apology, Granger. Personally I prefer it when my life doesn't depend on a sick sociopath's whims. Don't get me wrong, not that I don't think magical heritage is not an advantage" Ginny and Hermione simultaneously harrumphed at this comment "but you've proven enough that in the end ability is what counts. Right, Draco, my boy?"

The look Draco threw him was murderous. "Yes, _Blaise_. I should know."

Ron tensed even more. "What do you mean, Malfoy? And if you insult her…"

"What I mean, Weasley" he carefully drawled, "is that unlike you and Potter, I've tried competing against Granger. Obviously it didn't do me a world of good."

Before Ron had a chance to add anything, he added "The war is over, Weasley, given its outcome I should think I have nothing to prove – at least not the way I tried before. And I have no desire to fight with you two."

Ginny almost gasped, trying to contain her bewilderment. Guess Blaise wasn't joking when he was saying that Malfoy had matured. War had a funny way of doing that. Beside her Hermione was staring disbelievingly – was this really the same idiot that humiliated her in the halls on a daily basis? And had he actually just acknowledged her intellect?

"Well, thanks, Zabini" interjected Harry, dissolving the awkward mood. "Malfoy, this is as good as it's going to get, eh?" With that and a small knowing grin, he offered his hand.

Draco looked like he was torn between laughing in his face and taking the proffered hand. In the end he conceded. "I guess it is, Potter. You already heard my apologies and I don't plan on repeating them if it's all the same to you. Bad for the reputation, you know."

Blaise couldn't help but laugh at that. He had heard from Draco himself that he had thanked the chosen one after the trial of his mother and he knew how hard it must have been for Draco. Probably because he hadn't done so in his entire previous life. One could only speculate whether he actually had it in himself to apologize to Granger too. Weasley was of course of the question.

Spotting the look on her brother's face Ginny thought it a wise moment to break the awkward dynamic.

"So, Zabini, Malfoy" she tried to emulate a smug little grin of her own "care to check if my brother is in a benevolent enough mood to sell you some Wilful Witch's charms? Apparently, it helps boys in dealing with the unpleasant consequences of PMS. That's what George thinks anyway."

Blaise smiled evilly. "Really, Weaslette? I might buy a dozen or two. I have just the bloke in mind that could benefit from them greatly."

With that they entered the shop and were instantly overwhelmed by the buzz and colours around them. George Weasley nearly deserved an Order of Merlin for cheering Witches and Wizards from all ages – even though he had lost his own brother. Just then the pretty witch who worked at the shop from the very beginning greeted them and proceeded to direct them further inside the shop. Ginny couldn't help but notice that her brother manoeuvred his way so that he and Hermione could stand a little aside from the others, right next to the bookshelf that contained such prominent volumes as "Winging your O. W. L. s: The wizard's guide to cheating" and "Interpreting daydreams: The psychoanalysis of desire" (the last was sold with a discount should the buyer stock himself with at least 6 boxes of the newly refined Daydream Patented charms). Not one to care much for privacy – she was after all Fred and George's favourite sister and accomplice – Ginny grabbed an Extendable ear from a nearby shelf and stood a few meters away from them so that she could listen in unnoticed.

"So, Hermione" stammered Ron, obviously clueless as to how he should act "I wanted to give you your birthday present. I didn't really want to send with the owls."

"Thank you, Ron." Sighed Hermione. Ginny could tell she was nearing complete exasperation and couldn't help but be angry on behalf of her best female friend. One could write a book about all the ways in which Ron Weasley was not fit for a relationship. "If you think that it would make me feel more special though, you're in for a surprise. Actually sending me even a simple message on _the_ day would have made feel a lot more appreciated, instead of completely forgotten."

"I suppose so. But I didn't know whether you'd want to receive anything from me… You know, not seeing you and… "

"Ronald, stop making a fool out of yourself." Muttered Hermione. Ginny was completely baffled how her ever temperamental friend just didn't have it in her to be angry with her bumbling fool of a brother anymore. It was sad, really. "Things couldn't get anymore awkward than as it is. So just, please let it go."

"I don't want to lose you, Hermione" Ron blurted out without any preface. "I mean… You're my friend and I miss you so very much. I just don't know how to make it better."

"Of course you don't, Ron." The bitterness in her voice was palpable. "That would be my job, wouldn't it? Thank you for the present – it's a lovely choice."

With that she turned and headed towards Harry and Blaise in the other side of the shop. Ron sighed one last time and followed her. Ginny would have followed too, if she weren't met with a sudden glimpse of a pair of silver eyes right next to the shelf with the ridiculous books. Draco Malfoy scoffed at her apologetic face and proceeded towards the door, without even calling for Blaise.

* * *

A couple of hours later Hermione sighed contentedly when she finally managed to go at Flourish & Blotts. They spent an hour with George throwing around harmless remarks about inter-house unity, snakes and slipperiness (with the last topic eliciting deeply inappropriate smirks from Zabini and George and a fierce blush from Harry). Malfoy had somehow managed to "slither out" (that comment provoked even more laughter), without the others noticing him. She was surprised to find out that Zabini was not all pompous and boring, like the way he behaved at the Slug-club's meetings in their sixth year. He was easy enough to talk to and absolutely refused to engage in any serious conversation whatsoever. When she remarked this casually, he grinned at her devilishly.

"Well, Granger, what can I say, it's a brave, new world. Not only Gryffindors want to have fun." When he noticed Ron's reddening ears, he added lightly with just enough self-deprecation. "Of course, being the notorious cowards that we are, we Slytherins tend to find it a lot easier now that there isn't any imminent danger hanging over our heads." With that he nodded once more graciously at Harry.

"Take Nott and Malfoy, for example – they look like they've been on a vacation in Wonderland now that their fathers aren't "respectable" figures in a position to demand anything of them." He glanced around, as they exited Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. "Speaking of Malfoy, I should probably head off and find him. Poor sod's always eager for trouble."

With that he left Hermione and the others in a slightly tense and uncomfortable silence. The atmosphere was soon discarded as they entered in "The Twilfit and Tatting's clothes shop" where Ginny was once again in her element. She heaed costume after costume in Hermione's arms, while both boys groaned and looked desperately for an escape. Of course, Ron didn't fail to grumble that he was hungry too. After she tried more costumes than she cared to count Hermione thought she had found the perfect one – that or she was too eager to finally go to the bookshop. Her only concern was that it actually resembled a lovely Elizabethan dress in midnight blue – corset, petticoat and all. It had tiny pearls sewn all over it in what resembled a map of constellations, so the bookworm in Hermione just couldn't resist. The only thing she was afraid of was yet another stupid remark like the one from a couple of days ago: that she was some kind of modern day Juliet. Considering she was going to the ball with Malfoy after all, she certainly didn't want to give any more food for thought to anyone. The huge grin on Ginny's face only confirmed that these concerns were very, very valid.

"Ginevra Weasley" she muttered with a dark scowl. "So help me, if I hear even a single word from you, I won't go to that stupid ball. Here, Harry, please pay for that instead of me. I _need_ to go to the bookshop. Now."

She didn't pay any heed to Harry and Ginny's playful catcalls "Book junkie" as she headed off to her favourite place in the Wizarding world.

And now she was there. There at last. Free to browse through the books to her heart's content, because as far as she knew Ginny, she wouldn't be happy until she found the perfect dress – which would be, give or take, three hours from now. The smell of old and new books soothed her frazzled nerves and she no longer felt overwhelmed from the perfectly polite exchange between people who were quite hateful towards each other just six months prior. She even managed to not give a toss about Ron's latest display of emotional incompetence. "After all" she rationalized, "you should already be used to it, shouldn't you, Hermione?"

What she certainly wasn't used to was ferrets' being polite and acknowledging her qualities. That just wasn't how it was supposed to work, it was simply unnatural and unholy. She shivered with distaste… or so she thought. And just then…

"Fancy meeting you here" drawled a cool, still polite voice.

She closed her eyes and stood like marble in her place. Great, how was she supposed to deal him properly? It was one bloody emotional upheaval after the next. She sighed and braced herself – she certainly planned to give as good as she got.

"It's such surprise, isn't it?" she asked mockingly, turning around. "Me in a bookshop, who would have thought?"

What she saw set her further on her guard. She truly appreciated the change in Malfoy's demeanour from the past couple of weeks. Because it was now seemingly gone. His stance – rigid, his eyes – cold and his mouth twisted in the most insincere kind of smile, he looked like the boy who hated her on a principle for so many years. She didn't acknowledge the fact that this was actually affecting her. Instead she blinked and focused on what he was saying.

"Why, yes, it is surprising, since Weasley was kind enough to gift you a book." He smirked in that unpleasant manner that set her teeth on edge. "He must truly know and appreciate you, such an original present for a girl like you."

Once again she closed her eyes and slowly exhaled. When she opened them, he was only two feet away from her. "You can't help yourself, can you? You just need to pour your venom somewhere."

From such a small distance she noticed how tight his mouth was set and how his eyes were narrowed. He really was angry for whatever reason. "You should probably be immune by now. Besides, I'm sure that even a single comment from me, however mean, couldn't affect you even a tiny bit, certainly not like Weasley's oafishness."

"Well, what did you expect?" She really didn't understand him. How could he make her feel guilty so easily for not giving him the benefit of the doubt, after years of horrible treatment? "If I learned something from you, it is that you shouldn't face a viper without some kind of armour. Otherwise, what chance do you have?"

Did she just imagine the flicker of hurt? No, that was impossible. It wasn't there.

"Really? Then I'm dead useful, aren't I?" His tone of voice was absolutely freezing. "What I fail to see is how years of interaction with Weasley haven't taught you anything. I'm pretty sure he's made you cry far more times than I have. Shouldn't that tell you something? He's absolutely no match for you – in intellect, feeling, anything really. One would have thought that being Brightest witch of your age should have helped you see that more easily."

Before Hermione even got the chance to blink, he had turned his back and was striding purposefully out of the bookshop, leaving her once again stunned. So much for enjoying a quiet afternoon with books.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione shuffled awkwardly in front of the mirror. She had absolutely refused Ginny's proposition to help her get ready for the Samhain ball. Considering who her date was, she was terrified that Ginny might prove to be a bit too overzealous in making her look good – at the expense of her pride. Because pride certainly wouldn't let her primp herself and try to look her best for a boy who had made it almost a decade worth of sport to torment her in any possible way. On the other hand, pride wouldn't let her appear sloppily made – it was a sin against the beautiful dress she had bought and her battered and bruised ego certainly needed some uplifting. She really was between a rock and a hard place. In the end she had decided to try to look her best with accentuating her most valuable assets. Her makeup was light enough to be almost unnoticeable, yet it drew attention to her high cheekbones and deeply set dark eyes. She approached the difficult task of managing her riotous hair in a somewhat unexpected manner. Instead of applying copious amount of potions she used her wand to tightly wind it in four intricate braids which were then twisted and pinned so as to resemble a crown. Although she did consider her efforts to be successful she still asked for Parvati's opinion and was pleased to hear the other girl say she really did look well. Before heading to the Hall of Doom she stopped by Ginny's dorm to hear what the ginger girl had to say as well.

"Wow, Hermione, you look beautiful." Ginny gasped, even if she herself was the epitome of beauty in her velvet emerald dress. "I love what you've done with your eyes – they seem like deep wells of desire in this light." She waggled playfully her eyebrows at the remark. "Really dark and mysterious. What say you, did ever a dragon keep so fair a cave?"

"I swear to you, Ginevra, if your dress wasn't so lovely I'd rip it to shreds. How do you know about Ferret-boy? And more importantly, how do you know enough of Shakespeare to quote it?"

Ginny giggled. "You know not all of my brothers are as dumb as Ron. Percy could be considered well-read, despite him being grating on the best of days. Bill also really does love to read – I imagine you'd be a match made in Heaven if he were a little younger. And if you haven't already captured a certain ferret's fancy."

"You know, you're very adept at not answering questions lately. And quoting Romeo and Juliet, no less." Hermione eyed her shrewdly, even though the other girl could still tell she was amused. "Any secret forbidden romance I should know about?"

"Oh, you're so funny. Want to take attention off yourself for a change?" Then she shrugged, doing her best to appear nonchalant. "No, no secret romance... that you should know about." She muttered the last part under her breath, so Hermione who had already turned toward the door wouldn't hear her.

* * *

Meanwhile in the dungeons the subject of the two Gryffindor girls' conversation was standing in front of the mirror, doing his best to look as buffoonish as he could. He was halfway between jealous ("Stupid Weasley and his stupid ineptness") and giddy that he got to take Granger to the ball. But his ugly insecurities had reared their head after the scene in Diagon Alley, so he had decided to take the golden path between serious and stupid – he just hoped that Granger would grasp his reference of Petruchio at the wedding day. He was grateful that Zabini was for once not in the room, because he did not need neither his teasing, nor encouragement at the moment. But when his gaze fell on the piercing blue eyes of his dorm-mate watching him avidly in the mirror, he groaned internally. Maybe Zabini was the better deal, after all. True, the Italian boy was always astute in his observations, but he was also fairly nonchalant for a Slytherin. Nott on the other hand was a different matter altogether. Draco had known him almost all his life, yet he simply couldn't grasp what made him tick. He supposed it was fairly understandable – Calla Nott had passed when Theodore had been only 4 years old. And even compared to Lucius, Thoros Nott, his only remaining family, was one scary individual – he had been, after all, a school chum with Dark Lord himself and one of his first followers. With the knack for torture that the old bugger had, it was a whole miracle that Theo Nott seemed fairly placid and normal. The most unnerving thing about him though was that he always seemed like he knew a secret no one else was privy to. Or rather - secrets.

Something of Draco's reluctance to deal with him must have flitted across his face, because the other boy snorted, seemingly amused.

"What's the matter, want to woo and win the fair lady, but you don't have the bollocks to be mocked?"

"I always took you for a clever fellow, Nott." Draco narrowed his gaze in the mirror. "So explain to me, how exactly is dressing like a buffoon preventing mocking from the masses?"

"Not the masses – just your Gryffindor shrew." Damn those blue eyes, they were exactly the same shade as the late Headmaster Dumbledore's. "Besides, didn't you know? A man is most sincere when he's lying. Give him a mask and he'll wholly reveal himself."

"Impressive. How did you put your hands on such books? Surely your muggle-hating father wouldn't keep them in the family library."

"My mother's private collection. You?"

"One of the tutors. Although the choice was very limited. Shakespeare's folio, some Keats, some Wilde. His favorite was Anna Karenina."

"Good. So what are you? Petruchio, I'd wager."

He supposed denial was useless. "Got it in one, mate."

"You're in way over your head. You do know your Katherina would be furious, what with her being emancipated and egalitarian, right? And that play is outright chauvinistic."

"At least it's funny."

"Whatever you say. Should've gone for Othello, though."

"Whatever gave you the idea?"

"You look positively murderous whenever you look at the Weasley girl these days. Since I'm sure you're not secretly in love with Zabini, it must be guilt by association. That stupid brother of hers done something yet again?"

"He exists. Isn't that enough? And what are you dressed as - The Amazing Mind Reader?"

"The wizard with the hairy heart."

He snorted at that. "Let me guess – Daphne wants to play the fair lady with noble heart and kind spirit, for once. Still fits you though."

Something flashed in Theo's eyes and he smirked. "You shouldn't presume too much. After all, your lady love is enough of a know-it-all for the whole Hogwarts population. No need to become her twin."

Just then they were interrupted by a loud clanking of armor in the hallway. Draco couldn't help but guffaw at that.

"Zabini, have you nicked school property for your costume?"

"Yeah, dude. I'm Sir Luckless – the muggle. Have you read that particular tale by Beedle? Or Daddy had it barred from the Malfoy library as well? I heard he wrote to Dumbledore himself once upon a time to protect your tender eyes from it."

"You do know, the Hogwarts' library is not under Lucius Malfoy's jurisdiction, right? And daddy's seal of approval" he twisted his lips mockingly "stopped being crucial, when I began to use it. Anyway, I'm going to my date – I want to stay in the good books of that volatile little bird."

Just as he made his way to the door, he heard Zabini snicker. "If you were ever in her books, I bet she'd burn her library."

* * *

Hermione took a deep breath through her nose once the Entrance hall came to focus again. Hundreds of people – even the first years have been allowed to the feast in some capacity – were sporting all kind of colorful costumes. From scary through ridiculous to elaborate. She eyed Luna in the corner closest to her and smiled amusedly – Luna had gone to much trouble with her costume and Hermione was very happy to have helped in fulfilling one of Luna's dreams. Of course, it was a bit hard to understand someone so vastly different from herself – at times it seemed that the only things that Luna didn't believe in were the ones easily proved. Still, Hermione couldn't help but acknowledge that Luna was a pure-hearted girl and a good and loyal friend. It was kind of funny that the first time she ever saw Luna dressed in perfectly appropriate style, her clothes were medieval. The blonde Ravenclaw was dressed in the Wizarding robe that the founder of her House was painted in – or rather, a perfect duplicate of it. The proof of Hermione's help was sitting proudly atop of her head – the lost diadem of Ravenclaw, the very same that had spent some thirty years as a horcrux in the Room of hidden things and had shattered from Crabbe's Fiendfyre. She was beautiful. Before Hermione could ponder the strangeness of her choice for a date – Theodore Nott, who looked as cold and calculating as ever – something blindingly bright in her peripheral vision drew her attention away from them.

If Hermione weren't already prepared for some stupid Malfoyish stunt, her jaw would have probably hit the floor. It was absolutely preposterous – rags would be too kind a term for what he wore. Horribly clashing colors of which orange (orange, for Merlin's sake) was the most dominant were almost hurting her eyes. And the absolutely worst part of it was he didn't look half bad in it. She recalled the ridiculous remark from the Astronomy tower - that he would dye his hair ginger if it would make her like him. It was typical and predictable of him, cruel to the bone – to mock her like this, and she almost shrugged despondently. Well, nothing for it now, she would have to endure that evening; she'd taken a wand oath after all. Just then their eyes met and her resolve wavered – what she saw in his eyes was too raw to even be defined. If it was anybody else looking at her like this Hermione would have swooned at the pure longing she saw there. But he was not someone else. He was Draco bloody Malfoy and trying to determine what he felt for her was like riding a rollercoaster. One thing was certain, though – without a fail, he elicited one or another reaction from her, and right now that was definitely anger.

The stupid git of course noted this and strode determinedly towards her. Sighing loudly, he dropped on one knee and started reciting for the whole hall to hear.

" _Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?_

 _Thou art more lovely and more temperate…"_

"Thank you, Malfoy" She gritted her teeth and interrupted him before he embarrassed her further. "You look lovely yourself. Orange suits you – makes your eyes pop."

There was a bubble of laughter surrounding them. He leaped lightly on his feet – seemingly nonchalant – and took her hand. Hermione couldn't help but notice how different he seemed from Ron at that moment. While Ron was bulky and awkward, Malfoy was lean and graceful, pure energy contained. She couldn't imagine Ron handling such an awkward situation without dying from embarrassment but Malfoy seemed to take it in stride.

"Ah, beauty and wit." He continued lightly for everybody's apparent amusement but her own. "How can I not _find myself moved to woo thee_?" He placed emphasis on the last phrase looking her straight in the eye.

Mentally scoffing, she thought "Oh, how I long to move thee _hence_ , you ferret, you have no idea."

As if reading her mind he added quietly, but still amused. "Come on, Hermione, will you, nill you, I am your date to the ball."

"So you know Shakespeare. Color me impressed."

"I may be a git, but I'm not stupid." He was now guiding her towards a table in a perfect gentlemanly manner.

"All those years spent with Crabbe and Goyle, you could have fooled me."

* * *

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm fairly competitive. I don't do losing well. It was either those two or Nott and Zabini. And they're both smarter than me."

She gaped, but Draco didn't know whether it was because he had pulled a chair and carefully guided her onto it, or because of the admission that someone was better than him in something.

"Ah, don't look so put out, love. I am human, after all. Even though you may think I'm perfect." She scoffed yet again. "You do know I'm bound to have some semblance of humor, right? Nott's a damn clever fellow, always has been – I think he was born at forty. Kind of reminds me of Snape, actually. He never had friends, that fellow."

"What about Zabini?" Draco smiled at that. That was Hermione Granger to you, always so eager to know. He couldn't help but be a little bit proud that she was for once interested in what he had to say, even if it was something trivial like his judgment of someone's character.

"Vain as a peacock. I think if he had long hair he would take lessons from my Father on how to flip it."

She laughed at that and it was a like a dozen of tinkling bells. Who would have known it could be so much better making her laugh, rather than scowl at him angrily.

"And now tell me what do you seriously think?"

"He can be very charming. You saw him with Potter at Diagon-Alley. Also, he's probably had his sense of shame magically removed, so he isn't afraid of using any means so long as it gets him what he wants."

He barely had time to look around himself or in his plate, as he talked. It was exhilarating, the way she seemed like she was trying to catch the words, as soon as they left his mouth. Still, he noted, that Longbottom and his date were at the same table along with three boys that looked to be fourth or fifth year. The last seat was unoccupied. Granger took the time to order a specific meal to the plate in front of her, following the example of the boy on his right side. He did the same, more out of habit than anything else. He didn't feel like he could eat much, either way. After several minutes she lifted her eyes to him, making his stomach do a little somersault. Merlin's balls, he'd always known she was kind of special to him, but exactly how deep was this attraction of his running? He was honestly scared.

"What about you?" she asked, looking at him as if he was some rare Arithmancy tome.

"What about me?"

"You seem like a good judge of character yourself. And I've always known you could sniff insecurities like a Niffler – gold."

"Ah, the talents that come hand in hand with being a bully" He added hesitantly at her skepticism. "Yes, Hermione, I've no illusions as to what it was. I honestly don't know. I have some qualities, I guess. I'm terribly impatient, but I've learned to compensate with persistence. I'm a quick learner, although not in the way you are."

"How do you mean?" she asked defensively, apparently expecting an insult.

"I've watched you, you know. After all the tormenting from Father about someone of "such background" being cleverer and getting better grades I tried, I mean really tried, to understand how come you're better." He shrugged uncomfortably - it wasn't easy to admit such thing. "So I watched you for a year, maybe even two. I was very curious how you can manage ten classes, spare time for leading law defense for a sentenced Hippogriff and still come out better than me. I have to say I was happier about you losing sleep and time, than Hagrid being heartbroken over his pet."

She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. Oh well, suppose he was bound to get overexcited and revert to his old ways. "Do you have some bipolar disorder or something? How can you be decent one minute and then completely obnoxious the next?"

"I don't know what a bipolar disorder is. Some muggle contagious disease?"

"Very funny, you prat. No, it's something to do with mental health. Basically mood swings – from depression to maniacal happiness. The switch could happen twice a day – that's extremely severe though, or one or the other episode – depression or mania - could last for weeks or months. You get the idea – it's rather unpleasant."

"Oh, wow, I think my grandfather Cygnus maybe had that. You know - the one with the mad Black genes. I gather you've spent some time in my cousin's house. Was he really such a nutter?"

"Good lord, you can be disgusting, you know that? I can't say he was a wonderful person – I've only known him after he was broken from twelve years in prison over something he didn't do. But he had a really generous heart and cared for those he loved. Still he was very unhappy – imagine living with those parents for seventeen years and then spending twelve more in Azkaban for not being suspicious enough of one of your best friends? Though from what I've heard from Harry, you and he had a few things in common. Now, could you please make some effort and be civil?"

"I can't help it – being civil for long enough makes me feel itchy. Or rather I should say – twitchy. What things in common?"

For a moment she didn't understand his reference and then burst out in laugh. Hannah Abbott regarded them with wide eyes. "Twitchy, huh? Now I know what you mean, when you say you have issues with patience. He was arrogant. Confident. Mouthy. Also had some experience as a schoolyard bully. But you're awfully good at evading. Quick learner?"

"Of course I'm good at evading when it suits me, I am a Malfoy _and_ a Slytherin. Though I'm not sure if some time in the past grandfather Abraxas or Nicholas or god knows who had not lodged a formal complaint against the Sorting hat for putting the noble offspring of Malfoys in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Arrogant pricks, those Malfoys."

She actually snorted at that. "And you're not?"

"I'm humble enough to admit that I'm arrogant."

"Why yes, the essence of humbleness. But you're still evading my question."

"See, that's the difference between you and me. You're as determined as a Krupp holding on to a piece of meat. And you're systematical to a fault. Once you sink your teeth in a matter, you won't let go, even if that means you won't sleep for weeks – otherwise how could you stand up to those bitches Skeeter or Umbridge without any outside help? By the way, leading the frog to a centaur herd, that was impressive. Anyway… I'm… chaotic at best. My mind wanders quite a bit while I'm at something. But I learned in time it's not necessarily a bad thing, because I can come up with unexpected solutions. And as for persistence – Snape has had me trained like a dog when it comes to potions and at some point I've learned to extend that kind of discipline beyond his lab."

"Truly, you don't need to be so humble." She was teasing, he could tell by the twinkle in her eye. "Tell me something not so nice."

"Hey, you asked me what I honestly think. I can do that occasionally, Hufflepuffish as it may be." He tossed a look of contempt in the general direction of Longbottom and his date. "And I'm still a jerk, mind you, I don't understand why should I care about other people's feelings and I don't expect them to feel guilty over hurting my feelings. It's perfectly normal – people are selfish, after all."

"Wow, you make it sound just peachy, the business of caring for other people. Although I generally agree with you – can you believe that?! – people are selfish, it's the way nature is, after all. You have to take care of yourself, yes, but I don't think you couldn't or shouldn't care for others too."

"Well, it's obvious I'm not a caring person – as far as I'm concerned, I only care about my mother. She's put her life on the line for me many times over. And I guess to some extent my father and… Snape. When he was still around, that is. I'm aware he took an Unbreakable vow to spare my life in some way."

"Harry's saved your life too, as far as I remember." He could tell she was angry now, truly angry over his ungratefulness. At least she didn't mention Dumbledore.

"But that's the thing. Your Harry's noble to a fault, I admit it, but he's not and was not a sacrificial lamb. Would he take a Killing curse himself just so _I_ can live? And before you answer me, remind yourself who I actually am. Draco Malfoy, a git, a coward, a bully and a prejudiced arse. I don't think so, Hermione. Whereas my mother would do so in a heartbeat. You said it yourself, it's only natural."

"You're a cynic."

"Yeah, I'm a cynic. I was on the ugly side of the war, remember? And I don't mean, the losing, I mean the _ugly_. It certainly makes you a cynic when you watch people around you debase themselves. People you've known your whole life to be proud and on top of everything." Shit, he'd really gone ahead of himself, hadn't he?

Granger eyed him uneasily. "Do you mean your father?"

He scoffed at that, utterly frustrated - she was so transparent and easy to read. Yet she'd somehow gotten him to spill his guts and babble about things he didn't want to talk about with anyone, much less her.

"Who else, Hermione? It certainly puts you in a pensive mood, no? Someone who belittled you and made you feel not good enough for a good fifteen years acting so… pathetic. And I can't help but wonder - if he's pathetic and yet still makes me feel worthless, what does that make me? Utterly pathetic?"

It was almost akin to pity, the way she eyed him now. Fuck, there really was no way to win with this girl, wasn't there? She despised him when he was spiteful and mean, she pitied him when he was honest. He didn't want either of those things. But when she carefully formed her thoughts, she threw him off his centre yet again.

"If you can acknowledge he's the pathetic one, maybe you just shouldn't measure yourself up against him."

Draco quickly covered his surprise with a snort. "Grangerish to the core. Come on – the other people have been dancing for ages. I'm bored with this tedious talk, I want to revert to my old ways and behave like a… what did you call Goldstein, again? Callous pig?" She huffed but her lips twitched in an almost smile. "Besides," he smirked devilishly as he helped her out of her chair "I'm a show off. I want everyone to see that my date is the most beautiful girl in the Hall."

* * *

Hermione gaped but he had already turned his back to her, dragging her to the dance floor. Unlike the Yule ball when there was a live band, this time the hall was enchanted with the music – it ranged from smooth waltzes to modern, almost rock dances. The place was crowded with dancing people, some of them providing quite the spectacle. Like Blaise Zabini, who was wearing a knight's armor and was dancing with a wonderfully flushed Ginny. Hmm, her suspicions about these two were beginning to seem more and more credible. After Diagon-Alley and the way Ginny just knew certain things about Malfoy that she shouldn't have a way of knowing, Hermione thought that maybe she was seeing someone who she thought wouldn't be easily approved. Namely, by one of her many hot-headed brothers, Mrs. Weasley or Harry. Or all of them. Zabini fit that bill well – true, he hadn't been active in the recently ended conflict, but as far she knew he hadn't made a stand to people like Alecto and Amycus either. She chuckled lowly - from the way they both had snarled at each other in Slug-club, one would think there was no love lost between them.

They were dancing to an old-fashioned waltz to something that oddly reminded her of Debussy's music. This close, gazing into his grey eyes, she was hard pressed to admit that Draco Malfoy was nothing like what she expected. It didn't sit well with her – to hear his opinions (some of which she even shared), to see for herself that he wasn't a mindless minion parroting antiquated beliefs. No, he certainly wasn't his father's copy – like everyone else, the war had done a number on him and he had started to think for himself. She could sense the newly found guilt that had come along with introspection, but still she couldn't decide whether something valuable could come out of it. Perhaps time would tell.

What Hermione couldn't quite determine and was putting her ill at ease was whether this strange, ambiguous boy who so resembled a trickster could have any pull with her emotions. One minute he was insightful and serious, the next he was bitter and to top everything he wanted her to think that he was attracted to her. No, it simply wouldn't do, she decided, she'd had enough of hot and cold to last her for a lifetime. For the hundredth time though he spoke and her resolve crumbled.

"I wasn't joking, Hermione, you are very beautiful." She couldn't help but notice that he didn't compliment how she looked tonight, but rather it was a more general statement and thus all the more flattering.

"Thank you." Oh, god, now she'd started to stammer. Mentally pulling herself together, she noted uncertainly. "Why the sudden change of heart, though? Your past remarks about my appearance could hardly be deemed positive. You're also using my given name."

He shrugged in his maddeningly vague way and said, as he twirled her. "Do muggles have the proverb that "the grape is sour"?" She gawked and he laughed. "Aside from that, I'm tired of animosity. I'm not that stupid little boy who could blame everybody else for his oh-so-great woes. Hatred easily turns to self-hatred, don't you think?"

Just then a big clock somewhere chimed half to ten and the music was interrupted. The headmistress stood to make an announcement.

"As it is well past the usual curfew, I ask that students from fourth year and bellow stand near the doors and wait for their Head of house to escort them to their dorms. The rest of you are permitted to stay until midnight and please remain as you are, since Professor Flitwick has a surprise for you. He will announce it after he escorts the students from Ravenclaw house."

Now the hall was abuzz and everyone was guessing what kind of surprise would that be; distracted, Hermione barely noticed Malfoy's hand that was resting lightly at her waist, drawing her near to him. She eyed Ginny and Luna making their way, dates in tow.

"So, what kind of surprise do you think we have in store?" Of course, it was Ginny – lighthearted and curious.

"I don't know, Weaslette, maybe Celestina Warbeck will grace us with her presence and sing "Seduce me with Belladonna" or something." Blaise waggled eyebrows suggestively and Ginny laughed heartily.

"Please, no. My mum will gush that she missed it until my ears bleed."

"You shouldn't laugh at such matters, Ginny." Luna told her seriously, yet she still seemed serene. "There is ridiculous amount of Wrack spurts around your ears, as it is."

Next to Hermione, Draco – Malfoy! – coughed to cover a snort and the blond girl turned to him in an absent manner. "How are you, Draco? Did you try to get rid of the fiuts that were flooding your basement?"

Everybody gaped at her nonchalance, and only Nott laughed quietly – something that surely even his dorm-mates haven't heard more than once or twice.

"You're unbelievable, Luna Lovegood. I don't think anyone – much less someone who spent months trapped there – would be kind enough to call it a basement."

She turned her serene gaze at him. "Well, why I wouldn't I advise him to – they're malevolent spirits and attract bad energy. After he was kind enough to apologize to me, for something he wasn't responsible for, I might add."

The blond boy shuffled awkwardly and avoided Hermione's quizzical gaze. "Yeah, thanks, Luna. I informed my father of what you said, verbatim. He's the owner of the house, after all."

Nott smirked at that and wrapped carefully a hand around Luna's shoulders. "Come on, love. I've yet to show you my beastly, hairy heart that you should cure with your devotedness and all that tripe." He threw a knowing look at Hermione and Malfoy, and added with a little grin. "Besides, you're making our Malfoy here uncomfortable. Three months ago I would've bet that he wouldn't know the words "I'm sorry" even if they smacked him in the forehead. Or as Granger would have it, nose."

Thankfully, just then Professor Flitwick decided to make his way over to where McGonagall stood and cleared his throat with a squeak.

"Welcome, seniors, to the second part of our fest. As you are currently of age or close to it, we decided we should put some special effort, so that you remember today fondly. We've lost many beloved just in the Eve of Beltane when we should have celebrated life. And now, as Samhain approaches the staff here feels that we should pay them a tribute, mostly by appreciating life and not forgetting its value. With that said, I'd like to encourage anyone who wants to feel special or share a feeling with the others to make his way to the musical box over there. Concentrate for a minute or two on what you'd like to hear with your wand placed on the top lid and we'll all hear it, even if it's just a tune or something not traditionally performed in the Wizarding world. I myself have put some considerable skill charming it in order to make it work, so I hope you all will enjoy yourselves for the rest of the evening."

Everyone gushed excitedly and the first enthusiasts slowly trailed a path to the right. Soon enough they were all swaying to the lively beats of the Weird sisters, some – although thankfully not very much – Celestina Warbeck, even more waltzes. Hermione didn't have a minute to breathe, because the blond prat refused to let her sit down and take a breath. He relented on a couple of the mushiest songs. First, they took some punch (lightly spirited with the Headmistress' permission. She was Scottish after all!), and some time later they leaned against the wall, making silly comments about other people's dancing skills. Still she had more fun than she probably had in the three previous years and was thrilled to hear even some beloved songs that her Muggle-born classmates had chosen. She was completely ecstatic when Seamus whose father was a Muggle started bouncing energetically to the tunes of _Whiskey in the jar_ – a traditional Irish song, but in the hard rock version. Malfoy laughed at her, but still he stayed on the dance floor and danced rather enthusiastically. Unfortunately their amusement opened an avenue for more of his teasing.

"Come on, _Hermione_ , pick something yourself. Prove to me how superior Muggles are in performing music."

"No, I'm not in a mood. Besides, my mother who is the music lover in our family's rather untraditional in her taste and I get it from her, I guess. I don't think now's the place and time for that kind of music."

"What do you mean, untraditional? Something like what our fellow Seamus apparently likes?" he quirked an eyebrow sardonically.

"Oh, no. I mean, she also loves poetry, so I learned to appreciate words rather than tunes. Even though I love music."

"All the more reason for me to be curious, I think."

"God, you're persistent like an incurable disease, aren't you?"

"Does that mean I get to hang around until you are at your deathbed without the danger of being slapped?"

"No, constant vigilance should be your motto."

"Funny much, eh Granger?"

"Whatever gave you the idea? Everyone knows I'm as boring as a History lesson."

"I think that would be Binns. You may be a lot of things, but boring isn't one of them."

"Oh, fine." Hermione tried to look defeated, but her smile was still there. "But don't blame me, if it doesn't suit your taste."

Since there was already a slow number playing, they danced in silence, before she thought of something.

"So, tell me about Shakespeare."

"There isn't much to it. I had a tutor who read almost everything – he could have given you a run for your money, that's for sure. He made me read "Midsummer Night's Dream" and "As you like it", but I was too young and stupid to know better. I found a couple of years ago a few books he had left behind in a closet next to my room. Shakespeare's complete works were there, obviously."

"What is your favorite play?"

"You'll laugh at me – it's such a stupid cliché."

"Does that mean "Hamlet" then?"

"Yeah. It came at an appropriate time in my life. Surely you don't need me to elaborate."

"I guess that makes Pansy Ophelia then."

"Ugh, I didn't _need_ that imagery." He mock-shuddered. "And it wasn't like that. It was rather one-sided on her part and… well, I was very confused most of the time. It's more like I… I don't know - mistook attention for care. What about your favorite - was it "Winter's tale" because of your namesake?"

"Predictably enough, no. "The Tempest" I suppose, since it introduces the concept of sorcery. I also really like "Much ado about nothing."

"I can see where you're coming from." He smiled lopsidedly which for a moment made him look… adorable. Oh, god, what was her problem? "Alright, Hermione, that song's halfway over, so maybe we should line up. Don't want you getting clever ideas – like maybe letting someone else take your place in the queue."

"Fine. But blame yourself when you don't like it. I can only think of one song at the moment and I'm pretty certain you won't be too excited to hear it."

A couple of minutes later, after she'd concentrated long enough to remember the whole text of her mother's favorite song – which was likely the reason it sprang to mind – they were once again facing each other. After the first accords her hands were on his shoulders and his – on her waist.

 _I came so far for beauty,_

 _I left so much behind_

 _My patience and my family_

 _My masterpiece unsigned…_

As some of the students trailed away from the dance floor, he smirked. "Now I get what you meant when you said that song wouldn't be popular on demand. But I don't understand why I would have something against it. "

She didn't answer anything, just let him listen to the words for himself.

 _Broken bones to teach_

 _The value of my pardon_

 _The shadow of my reach_

 _No, I couldn't touch her_

 _With such a heavy hand_

"Oh." It was easy to see he wasn't particularly happy with her choice – there was a glint in his eye that reminded her of previous, unpleasant encounters. "My, aren't you waspish? The question is" his hands were slowly creeping towards the low of her back and making her uncomfortable "is your sting in the tongue or in the tail?"

"Stop" she ground out forcefully "being a git."

"That would be like to try and hold my breath for twenty days. Do you think I would survive?"

It was at that precise moment that the song ended and Hermione decided she'd had quite enough of his wild mood swings for one evening. She tried to extricate herself from his grip, but he held tight.

"I would like to go now. I suddenly felt very tired."

"It's almost twelve, so I think you can hold on for a few more minutes. McGonagall has something to announce again."

"Thank you all for a wonderful evening." The woman couldn't help but wipe a tear from her eye. "Now, I would like to choose the last song and wish you a good night. Please remember what our beloved Albus always used to say. As long we have and love each other, we have hope."

And just like that the whole hall stood still as if the time had stopped, maybe indeed had stopped. The most beautiful sounds – the sound of hope, of love, of passion for life reverberated through the walls. It was the song of the Phoenix, the very same that had left the world after the death of his beloved owner. Hermione, for the love of Merlin, Morgana _and_ Nimue, couldn't move even an inch even if her life depended on it. Her gaze was riveted on the face of one Draco Malfoy – filled with guilt, anguish and remorse. She held her breath, as she met his eyes – grey, like mercury or silver, and completely in disagreement with the rest of his face - bright with hope and desire. They were honestly quite beautiful eyes.

As if space meant nothing he leaned closer, too close and murmured. "Doesn't the magic always fade at midnight in your muggle fairy tales?" She didn't even blink. "It's twelve o'clock, Granger – masks off."

Two more inches and his lips were on hers, giving her the most surreal kiss in her life.

* * *

A/N: Hey, there. I'm kind of proud how this turned out, hehe. It's still sappier than I intended, but not overly much... I think. But if you would be kind enough and review whether it was or was not (or anything that pops to mind really), I'd be very happy indeed. Thanks to those who took the time to leave a comment, especially Vera - the bunch of references are for you. ;)

In case you were wondering about the song it is by _Leonard cohen -_ who's a truly great poet - predictably called _I came so far for beauty_.. Although I really wanted to stick _Tom Waits_ or _Nick cave_ in there, they're quite the inspiration. And _Whiskey in the jar_ is of course performed by _Metallica_.

By the way this is not the last chapter and I don't own anything - Harry Potter, The Taming of the Shrew or any of the aforementioned songs. cheers.


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